The Devil Inside
by Canadian Hogan's Fan
Summary: What would you do if you were in Airman Gene Wright's shoes? Entry in Hubbles's third Short-Story Speed-Writing Tournament.


AN: Like everyone else here, I don't own any of the characters, except for my OC.

In the hall, he put down his suitcase. A good thing too; it felt like it weighed a million pounds.

Gosh, I haven't felt this beat in years, he thought._ Too bad._ _I have a feeling I'm going to need all the energy I can get._

Hepaused beside the hall's lone window to take in the beauty of the Rockies as the sun melted the few stubborn traces of winter left on their peaks. _I should get into my swimming trunks and go for a dip in the lake. The boys are probably waiting for me._

The door at the end of the corridor beckoned to him. _Give me a minute. I want to look a little longer. _His feet pulled him away in response. _All right, all right. I'm going._

He took a deep breath as he grasped the doorknob and pushed.

oOo

"Blimey, Wright, leave off!" Newkirk said, feeling his patience snap. "I don't want your ruddy underwear!"

The lanky American airman shoved a pair of cotton long johns at the English corporal. "I thought you could really use them. It must get awfully cold only wearing a night shirt to bed in winter."

Newkirk removed a cigarette pack from his pocket. "Put yourself in my place, mate. If someone offered you a pair of those because he didn't want them anymore, wouldn't you assume he did something a mite rude in them? So thanks all the same, but no thanks."

Wright's green eyes filled with disappointment. "I'm sorry. I never thought of it that way."

Carter sat up in his bunk, setting aside an old issue of _Popular Mechanics_. "Don't listen to him, Gene. I'll take them. I haven't seen a nice pair like this for years."

Wright's round face lit up as he handed over the underwear. "Great! I promise you'll love them."

Newkirk shook his head. "You'll be sorry, Carter. You'll be lucky if you're a whole man by the end of the war."

LeBeau rose from the barrack's common table and stood on his toes to tap Wright's shoulder. "Don't mind him. He's just jealous because you've been taking all of Carter's attention away from him."

Newkirk folded his arms. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

Carter blushed. "Okay, Newkirk, I believe you. And even if you are jealous, what do you expect? Gene's the only one who's helped me make blasting caps these last few weeks! Besides, we talk about things you guys get bored with, like explosions, Harry James and being raised in the country."

"Right," Wright said, turning to Kinch as Newkirk muttered under his breath. "You like baseball right?"

"Uh-huh," the sergeant mumbled, not looking up as he doodled on a blue scrap of paper.

"Well, I've got a really nifty baseball card collection I think you'd like. I've got a 1911 American Caramel Ty Cobb, a 1933 Goudey Babe Ruth, even Shoeless Joe Jackson's American Caramel rookie card."

Carter frowned. "Didn't he throw the 1919 World Series?"

Wright shot him an icy stare. "He did not!"

Kinch raised his voice. "I appreciate the offer, Wright, but I don't want them."

"But they're in really good condition! Let me show them to you."

The radioman's eyebrows rose. "Why don't you keep them and enjoy them yourself? There's no rule saying you have to give up all worldly possessions to your bunkmates."

Wright scowled. "What, my cards aren't good enough for you? Fine, I'll give them to someone else!"

"Problem fellas?" Hogan asked as he strode out of his quarters.

"No," Kinch replied. "We're just discussing baseball."

"Good." He tapped his watch. "Time to go, Carter. That train isn't going to blow itself up."

The sergeant glanced at the airman. "Say, Colonel, I could use an extra set of hands. Since Wright's been helping me the last few weeks, I was wondering if I could take him with me. It'd be like his sabotage initiation."

Hogan tucked his thumbs in his jacket pockets. "You up for it, Wright?"

Wright stiffened and snapped off a crisp salute. "Yes _sir_."

The senior officer chuckled. "Alright, follow Carter's lead. Good luck."

oOo

"Thanks for coming with me," Carter said, trying not to rub the boot polish off his cheeks as he scratched his forehead. "Most of the guys hate helping me on cold nights like this. We usually can't feel our fingers by the time we're done."

Wright reached into Carter's satchel for another explosive. "Hey, I'll take this over a lot of things I've done during this war. I think the worst was pulling KP with the cook at my airbase. He made me peel so many potatoes I swore I'd never eat another one."

The sergeant giggled. "Our cook was from Brooklyn. He liked to scream at us in Greek when we didn't chop his slop fast enough for him. I was actually relieved when the Germans shot me down because I knew I wouldn't have to see him again."

Wright smiled. "Same here. I vowed when they captured me I was never getting back in a ball turret again. You haven't lived until you've had your butt shot full of flak." He glanced up at the stars. "Yeah, I'll take wrecking havoc on the ground over flying any day. Like that time we distracted Klink while Newkirk broke into his safe."

Carter nodded as he removed another bomb. "I can't believe you slapped the back of his head to do it! I though Schultz was going to faint when Klink's monocle went flying."

"It was worth 30 days in the cooler just to see old Blood and Guts fumble around like a newborn rat," Wright said, chuckling. "Then you capped off a perfect day by sneaking into my cell and playing cards with me all night. It was almost like being at summer camp again. Did you ever go to camp?"

Carter shook his head. "My parents always needed me to work on the farm. What was it like?"

Wright raised his hands. "Absolute paradise. I went to a camp in Waterton, across the Canadian border. Mom and Dad wanted me to be closer to home, but I wouldn't go anywhere where I couldn't be right in the middle of the mountains with all the wildlife. There were so many mule deer and big horn sheep there, you couldn't hike anywhere without running into the back end of one. And there was this waterfall right in the middle of town. I remember sneaking out to see it at midnight once. When the moonlight hit it." He whistled softly. "You'd think you'd died and gone to heaven. I've never seen anything like it since."

Carter watched the airman for a moment. "Is that where you're going when you get home?"

Wright shrugged. "I haven't really thought about it much. I guess I'll go see my family. What about you?"

Carter smiled. "The same. I'm going to eat one of my mom's apple pies all by myself and go back to Muncie to sleep for a month." He fixed the bomb in his hand to the track. "Last one. You ready?"

Wright did the same. "Yep."

Carter glanced at his watch and grabbed his satchel. "We'd better get going. The train's going to be here any minute."

Wright shoved him aside. "Last one to the top of the hill is a rotten egg!"

"Oh yeah?" he replied, giving chasing with the speed that lent him his native name. Unfortunately, his feet weren't swift enough to overtake the other man.

Wright waved as he reached the top of the hill. "Hi, Rotten Egg."

Carter slowed. "Phooey! You cheated."

Wright swayed as he raised his fists and took an unsteady step forward. "Oh yeah? You wanna make something of it?"

The sergeant's eyebrows rose in alarm as he grabbed the airman's arm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired." Wright panted. "Don't squeeze so hard; I've got a big bruise there."

Carter let go. "Sorry." He cocked his head. "Hey, we'd better get going. I can hear the train already."

Wright's breath came in wheezy gasps. "I feel like I've been running the 100 yard dash. Have you got a canteen on you? I could use a drink."

"Sure," Carter said, frowning as he reached into his bag. "Uh oh."

Wright breathed deeply to steady himself. "What?"

He pulled out a square explosive. "I missed this one. I'd better get down there and set it. Then I'll get you back to camp and have Wilson look at you."

Wright jerked out of Carter's grip and grabbed the bomb. "Forget it. I'll set it and get back here quicker than you can say Jack Robinson."

Carter hurried after him. "No you don't. You look like you're going to fall on your face."

Wright paused. "Andrew, you don't understand. I've got to do it. I'm not going to disappoint Colonel Hogan on my first mission."

"You won't disappoint anybody because it wasn't your mistake." Carter jabbed the other man's chest. "I'm going and that's final."

Wright sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry to have to do this."

Before the North Dakotan could reply, the Montana boy wound up his fist and slammed it into his friend's jaw. Carter collapsed, more from shock than pain, giving Wright the chance to flee with more speed than either guessed he possessed.

Carter rose and, abandoning mission protocol, cupped his hands to his mouth as he started running. "Gene. Gene!"

A blast from the train tracks shook the earth and sent him tumbling.

oOo

"It's all my fault," Carter moaned, burying his face in his hands as he sat down on his bunk.

Newkirk wrapped his arm around the American's shoulder. "How could it be? You didn't expect him to hit you."

"I should have. Now he's dead because of me."

LeBeau shook his head. "Mon ami, you're not omnipotent. You can't control everything that happens."

Kinch patted his shoulder. "That's right. It was an accident."

Carter shrugged them off. "Thanks for trying, fellas, but if I'd done my job right, it wouldn't have happened. Nothing's going to make that go away."

"Gentlemen," Hogan said softly. "I'd like to see Carter privately."

The men nodded and went back to their business as their commanding officer led the younger man away.

"Colonel, I'm sorry," he said when Hogan shut the door to his quarters. "I really screwed up this time. Now we're." He swallowed hard. "Down a man. If you want me to leave as soon as you find my replacement, I will."

Hogan motioned for him to sit at the table that passed for his desk. "You're not going anywhere. We can't afford to lose you."

"But I've put the whole operation in jeopardy."

Hogan sighed. "If that explosion was half as powerful as it sounded, I don't think we have worry too much about the Gestapo tracing it back to us. As for Wright, Schultz told us Klink's expecting a new group of prisoners first thing tomorrow morning, so no one except Schultz should notice. And you know how Schultz is." He tapped the white envelope next to him. "Wright left this with me tonight. He told me he wanted you to have it in case anything happened to him. "

"What?" Carter stammered.

Hogan opened the door. "Take all the time you need."

Carter starred at the envelope as Hogan left. Summoning of what remained of his strength, he opened it.

oOo

Dear Andrew,

If you're reading this, I guess that means, with a little luck, I'm flying with real wings now. Anyway, I wanted to tell you a few things while I still had the chance. First of all, thank you for being you. You're the best friend and brother I never had. The unconditional kindness you showed me when I was new in camp was the greatest gift a very scared and lonely kid ever received. That's what makes what I'm about to say so hard.

I haven't been honest with you. You see, this day was coming sooner rather than later. I had Leukemia. The flight surgeon on base tested me for it when my commander noticed I was tired all the time and had more bruises than I should've had. (I don't know how my draft board missed it.) I begged, pleaded, bribed and finally blackmailed the doc into clearing me for my last mission. That's how I ended up in Stalag 13 and why I didn't hesitate when Colonel Hogan asked me if I'd stay on. I didn't do it because I was brave. I wasn't. I'd been running every day since my diagnosis, thinking if I ignored it, it'd go away. I was wrong. The pain's been so bad the last few days I'm surprised no one noticed. Today, I finally took a look in the mirror, so to speak, and realized I wasn't going to get any better. I decided I didn't want to die in bed, wasting away, and that if I got the chance to go faster doing something for the war effort, I'd take it. I hope you don't hate me, Andrew, because I know if this had happened to you, you would have had the guts to stare it down. I envy that. I wish I could've been more like you.

Make me a promise, will you? Don't be sad about me. Even though being a POW's been hell, I've had some of the best times of my life here. I'll always treasure our time together, whether we raised Cain on the Germans or just talked about home.

My mom told me once that when she was a little girl, she believed heaven wasn't a place, but a moment in time that people wish they could relive for all eternity. If that's true, and I get there by some crazy mix up, then I'd been in camp in Waterton, but instead of being with the other boys, I'd want to be with you.

God bless you buddy. Have a good life.

Gene

oOo

Carter's head jerked up from the table at a series of knocks. He yawned, wiping dried tears from his eyes, his heart tripling in weight as the memories of the night before flooded his thoughts.

"Excuse me," a voice called.

The sergeant brushed a few stray hairs into place as he opened the door. "Yeah?" he croaked.

The young airman in front of him backed away, his hazel eyes filling with alarm. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I was looking for somebody else." He stared at his boots. "I guess I should go."

Carter forced himself to smile. "No it's okay. Do you have a problem? Maybe I can help."

He shrugged. "I don't think so. I'm just, you know…."

Carter appraised his round face and nodded. "I do. You're scared and homesick. We've all been there."

The kid looked up, relieved. "Yeah. You know what the worst part of it is? I wrote to _Command Performance_* asking them to get Betty Grable to sing and she was supposed to be on last night's show."

Carter patted his shoulder. "You remind me of a guy who used to bunk with us here. I think you would've liked him. His name was Gene Wright."

*A Second World War radio show were celebrities requested by servicemen performed for servicemen.


End file.
